


Netting of an Englishman's Heart

by Featherfur



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Cute, Fluff, M/M, Occasional angst, One Shot, One-Shot, Oneshot, Romance, angel - Freeform, demon, demon and angel, is sometimes actualy hetalia 'vers, other pairings might make an appearance, romantic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-05-30 12:14:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6423520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Featherfur/pseuds/Featherfur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of random one-shots detailing the love life of Arthur and Francis as they live the road of love. Finding each other in one universe after another and realizing that what they have is worth any amount of pain.<br/>Will take prompts and have them up within two weeks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hidden Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said in the summary this is a series of one-shots so if you want an addition to one or an alternative ending just comment for it and I'll see what I can do. I will take any prompts that don't involve rape as I refuse to write that. I will take one-word prompts and write whatever first comes to mind so if you want a certain set of circumstances just include them in the prompt.  
> Thanks for giving my story a chance and I hope you enjoy the read.

Arthur sighed in relief as the meeting finally broke for lunch; he was tired, crabby, and had gum stuck in his hair from Peter. He irritably swiped at Alfred as he passed by loudly proclaiming his heroism. He was tired of stupid blondes thinking they could push him around. First, Alfred had hugged him and knocked his papers to the floor, and then ran off without helping him. Then Sealand had tackled him and spit his gum out into Arthur’s hair when Arthur tried to pull him off. After dealing with an annoyed Poland who threatened multiple times to cut holes in his clothing, Arthur was stuck sitting across from the biggest flirt their side of the world, Francis Bonnefoy.

The irritating Frenchman had taken to flirting with an oblivious Feliciano and Romeo who Ludwig had deemed a danger to himself and others without someone to watch him. The two Italians were happily chatting away with Francis, not noticing the flirting tone as he reached over and laughed, fingertips dancing on Seborga’s hand. Arthur had glared at him, pointedly turning away as France turned his flirting look on him. There was no way he was going to fall for such stupid pick-up lines like Francis usually used.

As the meeting dragged on Arthur ignored the Frenchman and listened to the meeting, desperately wishing he had a cup of tea, perhaps a sandwich to fill his empty stomach. As the meeting broke for lunch, he sighed loudly and leaned back in his seat, images of a perfect cup of tea floating through his head.

He slowly stood and stretched his cramped muscles, reaching for his papers as a strong force pushed him against the wall. He caught sight of long blonde hair and the scent of roses and fresh earth. His guess as to who had attacked him was confirmed as his back hit the wall, a soft hand at his head and his lower back, softening the blows so it was like hitting a pillow rather than a cinder block. 

“Francis.” Arthur growled and brought his hand up to push Francis away only to have his wrist caught in a gentle grip. He watched as Francis leaned in, lips coming over to brush against his ear, causing Arthur to shiver and turn red. He could only imagine the teasing he’d have to endure after Francis finally let him go.

“We are very much alone my love.” Francis murmured into his ear, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as he pulled away. Arthur’s blush worsened as he looked around the room. He blinked in surprise as he saw that they were in fact, completely alone. He shot a look at the door and recognized the little knob was turned to lock it.

“Oh…” He muttered softly and his arm weakened and slipped out of Francis’s hand as his head slipped down and laid to rest on Francis’s chest. He sighed contentedly at the arms that wrapped around him.

“I hate you, you stupid frog.” He grumbled affectionately as Francis’s chest shook with silent laughter, the Frenchman’s fingers moving to massage his sore neck and back.

“Mon amour… why is there gum in your hair?” France asked, eyeing the pink substance that was next to his chin. He could only imagine how it got there and why England hadn’t simply taken it out. 

“Peter.” He responded simply and stepped closer, body pressed against Francis as he moved his head to the Frenchman’s shoulder instead. He sighed in relief as the massaging fingers followed him and worked out the knots in his shoulders. 

“Why not take it out? Why did you leave it in Arthur?” He questioned quietly and looked over it, thinking of how to get it out without needing to cut Arthur’s hair.

“...My head is… sensitive alright, I’ll put peanut butter on it later and get it out… don’t stop.” He complained as France’s fingers stilled in their movements.

“Peanut butter? Non, sit, I’ll get it out.” Francis announced, pulling Arthur over to his seat from earlier and pushing him into it. Arthur rolled his eyes at the Frenchman’s grumbling about his desire to use peanut butter to remove gum. 

“Oi! France, I’m starving, you can do whatever you want to my hair after I... What the hell?” His voice was loud and confused as he finally realized what was infront of him. A plate of food was in front of him, a mug of tea with steam rising above it. Francis, however, took his words as meaning Arthur was upset over the meal.

“Is something wrong Arthur? I thought you liked Shepherd's Pie.” Arthur looked over to his secret lover and stared blankly at him. 

“When the hell did you have time to put this here?” He asked, completely confused as to how Francis could have done it.

“You stood staring at your papers for twelve minutes, did you not see me put it down? I locked the door so we could eat and not worry about being interrupted.” France explained shortly and frowned at the Englishman, was his boyfriend so distracted he hadn’t even noticed his tea being set down?

Arthur turned a light pink as he heard France’s explanation. He hadn’t even noticed his mind wandering anytime during the meeting, Arthur guessed Francis had left with everyone else in order to avoid suspicion and snuck back in. His mind wandered again and he was brought back to reality with the feeling of Francis’s fingers in his hair.

He glanced up to his Frenchman and tried to ignore the warm feeling in his stomach that Francis’s content smile gave him. He accidently let out a soft moan at the gentle fingertips in his hair, his face turning a more dramatic red. His glare settled on the dish in front of him as France laughed at England’s embarrassment. 

“Eat already, I want to know if I made your tea right, I know how picky you are about it.” Francis chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss his ear. He pulled out a comb and started on removing the gum in Arthur’s hair.

Arthur sputtered angrily at him, his glare intensifying at the kiss. Even after a month of being together and centuries of dealing with the frenchman’s need to be overly affectionate, Arthur wasn’t quite used to being treated so lovingly, like he was the single most important thing in existence for someone else.

He slowly reached for the mug, bringing the steaming liquid to his lips and sipping it. An unstoppable sigh escaped from his lips. The tea was perfection as he could rarely make himself, he wondered in the back of his mind how many times Francis had watched him make the tea in order to have it so perfect. Arthur hummed to himself as he thought, after all, even in their bloodiest wars they had never actually hated each other, often finding themselves at the others house to complain about everything. From lovers to bosses and even occasionally their colonies, everything was spilled to the other, sometimes over dinner or a game of Chess.

“Well?” 

“It’s… drinkable.” Arthur responded simply and refused to look at his lover, whom he just knew was smirking at him.

“Just drinkable?” Francis questioned, the grin on his face present even in his voice. Arthur hummed and tilted his head back to glare at him, reaching up to tangle his hand in Francis’s hair and pull him down.

“Your ego is big enough without my help.” He murmured softly and pressed a kiss to Francis’ lips before pulling away and releasing his hair to turn to his lunch, picking up the fork and starting on the pie. He gasped softly as Francis stepped next to him and placed his fingertips under England’s chin, turning his head to look at Francis. The Frenchman leaned in and kissed him properly this time, England’s face burning at the feeling in his chest.

When Francis finally pulled away and returned to fixing his hair, Arthur stared at his pie, fingers brushing across his lips slowly. Even long after their first kiss Arthur’s chest always tightened and his stomach blossomed with pleasure with each real kiss. The loving kisses that Francis gave him never ceased to make his heart pound and a smile twitch at his lips. Every kiss was passionate, lovingly, adoring, and made Arthur feel like he never had before, not that he’d ever admit that especially if Francis himself could hear.

“How long?” The accented voice questioned from above and Arthur sighed, laying his head back and looking up into the blue eyes of his lover. He knew exactly what Francis was asking and as many times as he’d asked, Arthur had never answered him. Yet as Arthur looked at him he couldn’t avoid the question any longer.

“I-I don’t know.” He answered honestly and flinched internally at the look on France’s face. The Frenchman looked downcast at the answer, a disappointed look in his eyes as he gazed down to him.

“Go ahead and do whatever you want.” England hissed and tilted his head down, he hated himself for saying it so harshly but couldn’t bring himself to apologize. This wasn’t even a topic to fight about and yet Arthur was turning into one with his pride and nerves.

Gentle and comforting hands returned to his hair, pulling and plucking the gum out. As soon as it was removed the loving fingers moved and started on Arthur’s shoulders. Avoiding sensitive spots expertly and reminding Arthur just how completely Francis knew him, mind and body. The Frenchman’s breath was on his ear as he spoke, tenderly as if trying to give comfort and take some as well.

“If I’ve disappointed you in some way-”  Francis began only to stop as Arthur choked on his tea and started coughing. 

“How..” He paused to completely clear his throat..

“How the hell could you have possibly disappointed me?” He asked not turning to look at Francis.

“I am not deaf to what people say about me mon amour.” He murmured softly and sighed, pressing his lips to the back of Arthur’s head and closing his eyes. “I also know that is why you did not wish for me to tell anyone, for what they might say of you.” 

“Us.” Francis’s eyes shot open at Arthur’s voice. “For what they might say of us… Perhaps the rumors are not as vulgar as the ones about you, but there are a lot about me. I… I don’t want to see you hurt from them… I know what your best friends think of me and how much you value their opinions on everything. You can tell whomever you wish, I won’t stop you, not any more.” His words were quiet, a barely heard whisper to most but to Francis is was like he was talking with his emotions instead of his brain for once, and that made the Frenchman strain to hear every single syllable. 

Francis didn’t know what to say to that. He just wanted his Arthur in his arms, back home in front of the fire as they read silently side by side, he wanted those peaceful moments to last. But he also knew that the moment certain nations learned of their current status as lovers, endless phone calls and pitying looks would be sent to both of them, trying to convince them to separate from the other. 

Arthur’s hand reached around tentatively and grasped France’s own, twining their fingers together in his lap. He didn’t want to tell anyone, he wanted to keep him and Francis a secret, so he wouldn’t have to hear the voices of the others telling him how easily Francis would dump him for someone else. He didn’t have the heart to listen to the rumors that would speak of Francis blackmailing him into it, or worse, forcing himself on Arthur. Arthur knew how much those ones hurt the Frenchman the most and he despised those who spread them.

England was well aware of Antonio’s loathing towards him and didn’t want to put Francis in a position where he had to choose between Arthur and Antonio. If everything was a secret then nobody could judge them. They could do whatever they wanted together and not have to see the annoyance and glares of the nations who didn’t like them. At the same time, however, they couldn’t be intimate in public. If anyone saw Francis had stopped flirting with everyone, they’d question his motives like never before and Arthur couldn’t not yell at him or else everyone would realize things weren’t the same between them.

Sometimes Arthur wanted to be able to step away and know Francis was there to hold him, not have to wait until they were home to bury his face in Francis’s chest. Francis wanted to hold his hand as they did now, or kiss him when the meeting was over, in front of everyone, prove that no matter what they thought or said Francis was never leaving Arthur’s side. For the first time in a while he despised his flirting habits. In his eyes, had he not been so out going with his affections he could focus all of them on Arthur and erase the jealousy and unease he knew his lover felt every time France wasn’t directly at his side.

“Oh you damn frog.” Arthur muttered and stood, pulling Francis closer with their twined fingers. He brushed their lips together and rested his forehead on France’s.

“You think too much.” Arthur murmured softly.

“And you don’t amour?” Francis countered and tilted his head to the side, making their lips meet again.

“I think the perfect amount thank-” he was cut off by the kiss and his face darkened with a fierce blush.

“I’ll follow you and your lead anywhere.” Francis murmured in his ear softly, kissing his cheek as he pulled away to rest their heads together again.

“S-shut up you damn sap!” Arthur hid his face into Francis’s neck as he laughed quietly.

“What kind of Frenchman lets the English off easy hmm?”

“The one who is a good boyfriend… Don’t take anything from that!” He nearly yelled, despite dating for a while, Arthur had never actually called Francis his boyfriend and him saying it now only fueled France to pick him up and spin him around in his arms.

“France… France… Francis!” Arthur yelled and gripped France’s shoulders. “Put me down you twat! I’ve decided you can tell who ever you want.” Francis blinked at him, pleasantly surprised, as he slowly lowered him to the ground.

“But I have some rules alright?” Arthur told him sternly, and Francis nodded, he had expected something like that, after all, when they first started Arthur had told him straight up, rule one was nobody was allowed to know.

“First, If Antonio pisses me off or threatens me I reserve the right to punch him… Same goes for Gilbert. Second, stop flirting with Feliciano or I will dump you.” This caused Francis to chuckle and open his mouth, only to find it covered with Arthur’s own. The kiss only lasted a few seconds before Arthur pulled back.

“Yes I know I told you to act like you normally do… but I don’t like it so you can act how you told me you wanted to.”

_ That Night _

_ “If we’re not telling anyone then won’t they put two and two together when I only flirt with you?” Francis asked, an eyebrow raised as his new lover muttered to himself in the kitchen, busying himself with tea. _

_ “No, because you’ll be acting like you normally do.” _

_ “You’re a very controlling lover Arthur.” Francis informed him and was surprised at the flinch and heavy sigh that came from Arthur. _

_ “S-sorry… I just… the rumors… and then our bosses.” He mumbled softly and Francis stepped up behind him, wrapping his arms around him and pressing a soft kiss to his neck. _

_ “Whatever you want, you’ll have from me Arthur… When you are ready to tell everyone, It will be you and only you who holds my gaze.” He whispered softly in his ear and he could only just make out the words that made his heart pound. _

_ “Thank you… I love you Francis…” _

**Now**

“Of course.” Francis smiled and kissed his nose.

“And lastly...You have to say the thing at least once a day.” He said hesitantly and Francis tilted his head to the side.

“What thing?”

“You know… the thing, that you say and only you say it. I want to hear you say it even if we don’t see each other all day, I want a phone call alright?” He grumbled out and turned his head away, his face burning with his embarrassment. Francis’s breath caught as he realized what Arthur was asking him to do

“Of course I will,” He said softly and grabbed Arthur’s chin, gently turning his head and kissing him lovingly.

“Arthur… Je t’aime Mon Angleterre.” Francis’s accent was thick and his voice sweet, making a red Arthur turn even redder as he stuttered and finally buried his head in his chest.

“I… I love you too even if you are a frog.” He mumbled into his chest and nuzzled him, as strong arms moved to wrap around his waist.

“Let’s continue lunch, we only have 30 minutes left after all.” Francis told him as he felt Arthur’s stomach growl loudly.

“Might as well unlock the door before Alfred runs into it trying to be first back to the meeting.” Arthur said contently, a little upset their moment was interrupted by his stomach. France chuckled softly at his words and swooped down for another kiss.


	2. Something Strange Always Happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so not exactly Fruk based but still contains Fruk, tell me what you think

Francis stepped into the cool night. A soft sigh rose from his throat as he lifted a cigarette to his lips. Before it could make contact, he caught sight of the tall man standing in his garden. A gentle smile shifted onto his face and he placed the cigarette back in his pocket and stepped forward.

"Mattieu," He called softly and raised an eyebrow at the him.

"Francis," He said back, turning and moving to stand beside him.

Francis looked at the 2P questioningly but remained silent, allowing him to speak when he felt ready to. Matt's neutral gaze returned to the bright moon, his hot breath making smoke in the chilly air. Matt was silent for some time, and when he spoke his voice was closer to the quiet tones of Matthew then his normally rumbling growl.

"You need to take Arthur and hide," and Francis stared at him in shock. "This world can only take one representation of each country, we're dying... and we will perish unless that spot is vacated, do you understand what I'm saying?" Matt continued, refusing to look at Francis.

"Mattieu," He chimed in softly and his eyes softened. He was more than a little fond of the burly canadian. Despite their initial meeting, the two were close, Francis helping Matt learn what his own France had never bothered to teach him, like how to read people, or why leaving a skinned moose wasn't considered a declaration of love but a sign of insanity. In return the canadian kept Mathew safe and helped Francis's old colony come out of his shell, he had also been the one to push Francis and Arthur together after they'd separately admitted feelings for each other to him.

"Don't worry about Matthew, he doesn't know what's going on and I intend for him to remain the representation of Canada." Matt muttered softly and Francis watched the hard face slip into a gentle and exceedingly rare smile. Francis watched him mournfully, he knew what Matt was saying, the 2P wouldn't even fight for a place in this world, he was giving it up to Mathew and Canada would never know.

"You can't change my mind because in the end, you want Matthew to remain alive as well." Matt said finally looking at him and Francis blinked at the amount of emotion on his face.

"How long have you known you'd have to die?" Francis asked him, looking him in the eye.

"Since our world first collided with yours, I felt the first breath of mortality the moment I stepped foot on this plane of existence."

"That's why... Matthew?" Francis questioned gently.

"Oui, why fall in love with someone when I'm doomed to leave him?" He asked rhetorically and Francis nodded, understanding his reason.

"Perhaps you should have for that very reason, like Alfred and Victor or Allen and Ivan,"

"They don't know... or rather, they didn't, all of us can feel it know. I wanted to... In the beginning I wanted to be with him regardless.. But I'm not made for relationships, even with your help." He muttered, a wry smile on his face and turned back to look at the moon.

"Francois won't let us leave without a fight, you know that." Francis muttered dropping the subject of Matthew and moved his gaze up, looking at the moon as well, he knew his alternate self wanted him dead from the beginning and know with his impending death he'd be even more willing to kill him.

"Francois is dead." Matt said simply and ignored Francis's look.

"He went crazy when he felt it, and he tried to kill Katyusha, Kuro is the one who struck him down... Victor has left us as well." These last words were muttered with a gentleness rarely seen in Matt.

"How?" Francis asked breathlessly, his chest aching at the revelation. Matt hummed and pulled Francis's cigarette out of the Frenchman's pocket, lit it and took a long drag before speaking.

"You call us 2nd Players, 2P's, but in reality most of us were in our world first, Matthew was born when you and Arthur traveled to the America's. I was born when the Nordics of my world left their people behind in my land, I was nothing more than a ghast walking over frozen land, my people small and weak and so was I... In our world we had no Rome or Germania to guide us, while we had people who called them that, the nations we have now are the ones who governed them, we were here first and so we will die first... We're old Francis, I can remember walking barefoot and naked across frozen lakes for almost a thousand years, I'm ready for sleep, I'm ready to give in. Victor said his goodbye's and left, like ripping off a band-aid, Allen is saying his farewells now, and so am I." He offered the cigarette back to Francis who shook his head.

"Why are you telling me this?" France asked gently.

"Like I said, we're old, let the newbies have a turn screwing up the world... Ollie wants to kill Arthur, and part of his mind believes if he kills you as well Francois will return. You guys..." He didn't finish, just lifted the cigarette back to his lips.

Francis nodded anyways, he knew what the canadian was saying. He'd known since the bigger man had started joining Alfred and Matthew at Arthur's and Francis's house for after-meeting dinners. Even Allen had wiggled his way into their family, often stopping by just to argue with Arthur, a home-made sweet always left on the counter and the brunette leaving with Arthur's scones stashed away in his jacket.

"Where could we go?" Francis asked him, and the canadian took a final drag of the cigarette.

"I already talked with Alfred and Ivan, as the only ones other than you without a 2P, they don't have anyone who can sniff out your location... You'll be staying with them at my house, Matthew will bring you there, only he and Allen know where it's at. It was magicked by my Norway to be hidden from everyone unless they are purposefully led there, luckily Ollie can't use magic or else Arthur and you would be long dead." They turned together as a shuffling was heard on the stairs.

"Vivre longtemps et se souvenir de moi," Matt muttered softly in French and when Francis turned to look at him, Matt was gone. A half-smoked cigarette lay on the ground, a bouquet made of Canada's provinces' national flowers lay next to it and Francis smiled at the gift, a silent promise to give it to Matthew made as he bent and lifted it up, cradling it into his arms.

Warm and curious arms wrapped around him and Francis hummed and leaned into his lover's chest. Soft but chapped lips brushed against his neck as Arthur's bathrobe tickled his lower leg. His curious and sleepy voice spoke softly in his ear.

"What _are_ you doing Francis? It's bloody freezing." Francis chuckled softly and turned so they were chest to chest, flowers moved so they wouldn't get damaged as they kissed.

"I woke up for a smoke that's all, and it's not nearly as cold as it could be... Let's visit Matthew oui?" He asked when they separated.

"What's with the sudden interest?" He teased gently and tugged him in the direction of the house.

"I'm feeling old and young at the same time and more than a bit nostalgic, give an old man this." Francis chuckled and moved faster at his lover's urging.

"Oh alright, I hope you set this up with Matt when you were talking and Matthew actually knows we're coming." Arthur said with a knowing smirk, at which Francis blushed at being caught.

"Ah, oui, we did...so?" He asked cautiously and Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Yes we can go visit Matthew, and once we get there you can tell me the real reason behind leaving France." and Francis agreed reluctantly, closing the door behind him only to glance back. He would have sworn he saw a laughing Matt, a cigarette hanging from his lips and a content look on his face. Yet when he turned and looked completely, no one was there, so he shrugged and followed Arthur, knowing somehow, Matt was keeping Oliver away.

  



	3. Feathered Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angel Au!

"Will you get rid of that ridiculous hair?" A sharp accent growled behind him and Arthur turned to see Francis behind him. With a sigh and a glare he let the red in his hair fade out to be replaced with blonde.

"Why must you fight my hair color? We have known each other for generations and the only thing you will even notice is my hair color."

"Perhaps if I actually considered you a threat I'd have more to complain about." Francis said smoothly, not even twitching as the sharp tail twitched and was pointed centimeters from his eye.

"For an angel of love you are way too cocky especially while facing a high ranking demon." Arthur snarled and flinched as he saw the beautiful gold wings move forward to brush his tail away and gently sweep across his face.

"You're an ass." Arthur snarled and huffed, looking away as Francis burst into laughter.

"For a demon you have little bite amour." He teased and Arthur glared at him.

"Quit calling me that I am not your love I'm not anyone's love so knock it off." Arthur scowled and started walking away, Francis following.

"Does that upset you? You know magic arrows and the red string don't affect being like us. If we fall in love it has nothing to do with fate or destiny."

"Whatever, _we_ are not falling in love, ever, I don't know why I haven't destroyed you."

"Neither do I my feisty little lion." Francis snickered, dodging the jabbing tail with ease. The day Arthur killed him would be at the end of the world, and they both knew that even if they preferred to never say anything.

Francis followed Arthur across the busy street, occasionally flicking his wings irritably at the language he could hear. He hated disrespect to either gender, the degradation of others that people seemed to feed on from the beginning of life itself. He almost didn't catch the flash of tail that spilt coffee on a man that had decided to feel up the young woman next to him, and then stab into a purse of a woman whose fist was raised to strike her cowering son and husband, splitting it at the seams.

"I don't like people." Arthur grumbled as if he'd not actually done it because he'd felt sympathy for those being mistreated and instead was simply causing trouble.

"Sure." Francis snickered, slapping a wing over two men and watching them stumble into each other and blushing.

"Knock it off with the love mojo, would you? It's annoying." Arthur grunted, ordering a coffee and tea from a roadside stand.

"You're just angry that I can't use it on you. Besides, you started it."

"Do you _always_ have to one up me?"

"Yes." Francis said smugly and Arthur gave him the harshest glare yet.

"Two-" Francis started looking at Arthur only to be cut off.

"I _know,_ " Arthur growled before Francis could finish. "Two shots of caramel, a single of vanilla, a spoonful of sugar and marshmallows, there is literally no difference with you." Arthur listed off with an eye roll.

"And yet you say we aren't friends." Francis said softly taking the drink carefully as he avoided Arthur's gaze.

"Francis... yeah... we're friends." Arthur mumbled softly as he took his own drink and led him to the local park. They sat together in silence, angel and demon, enemies from the fall of Lucifer and yet, friends. Arthur's cup was in Francis's hand as he fished out some knitting materials, Arthur's head resting on Francis's shoulder comfortably.

"You know... if we were caught we'd be destroyed." Francis said softly and glanced down at Arthur.

"I wouldn't let them touch you." Arthur growled possessively and blinked up at him as if realizing what he'd said. "After all... I owe you so I have to make good on my debts... and It would get boring without you."

Francis laughed and smiled at him, a golden wing moving to rest over Arthur and the demon's own leathery black wings. In return the sharp tail curled around his waist, not too tight, but with enough pressure that Francis wouldn't forget about it. Francis slowly sipped his coffee, occasionally handing Arthur his drink, he reached down and slowly stroked the tail, ignoring the demon's shiver and grunt.

"Alright Aziraphale, knock it off." Arthur growled, stabbing into the wing with a knitting needle.

"Does that make you _my_ Crowley? It may not have been implicit but we both know the two were more than friends." Francis drawled a hint of longing in his tone that Arthur pointedly ignored.

"Perhaps I am in the role of Crowley but I am not _your_ anything, and quite honestly I never will be." The demon grumbled turning back to his knitting and Francis frowned at him. As the angel of love this was very frustrating to have his best friend pointedly ignore the subtle messages. Even if Arthur was a demon, Francis knew that didn't mean anything about whether or not he wanted love and respect, everyone craved it, it was a flaw neither God nor Satan could fix.

"Francis... do you still have it?" A soft voice asked, the originally jabbing knitting needle now softly stroking a feather.

"Of course I do." From within his shirt he withdrew a long necklace on the end held a small talisman and then a single pale yellow feather. Arthur reached out as if to touch it but drew his hand back instead.

"There were more last time... have they really perished except for this one?" Arthur asked, his voice soft and concerned and Francis shook his head.

"No, I use them to fletch my arrows, for some reason, the only ones that always fly straight are the ones from you." He said gently, wondering how he'd react. Arthur gave a hard and cold laugh, his eyes dark.

"I can only imagine why, the feathers of a fallen angel's wings, the fact that you use them in arrows created to spread love is probably sacrilege."

"Perhaps... but I find I don't care much anymore for the rules, besides these are from before you were cast out."

"But still after I'd fallen Francis."

"To me, you've never fallen." Francis countered softly, ignoring Arthur's shocked and incredulous face.

When Arthur had fallen his wings had lost all of their feathers, leaving him with the plain leathery black ones he bore now. Francis had sat beside him as each feather dropped with a sob of pain from Arthur. Instead of burning as was customary and as Arthur had requested, Francis had collected the ones still whole, ignoring the way they glowed under his fingers, and created a long necklace that he wore everywhere. Despite the mistrustful looks he had received for it as well as the hateful disrespect, Francis had still never removed it from his person. It had taken many years to find Arthur, and many more to convince him to talk back after he had seen the necklace. Now every time they met Francis would show him it, prove he still trusted the ex-angel.

"Why's that one so special?" Arthur finally grunted after a few minutes, looking at the single remaining feather. Francis glanced at it and smiled.

"It was the first one you gave me... the one that matches your necklace."

"Y-you... YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO DESTROY IT!" Arthur yelled causing glances towards them, Francis ignored the looks and stroked the tail on his waist until Arthur turned slightly pink and calmed down.

"Francis.... you know the rules... we aren't... you can't ... Francis, that was a long time ago, we aren't the same people we aren't..."

"Mates," Francis finished gently, not looking at Arthur. "I am well aware that we are not bound to one another nor do our souls and grace intertwine...That means little to me. If you care so much about the rules and our current status as enemies, then why do you bear my own promise on your neck? You carry my feather as I carry yours." Francis murmured almost lovingly as he stroked the tail on his waist again.

"If someone important found out you could be destroyed! Forget losing your wings or being kicked out, you would be wiped from existance, memory and history alike. A demon is expected to do things frowned upon, murder, genocide, wearing the mating ritual necklace." Arthur said with a snarl, trying to ignore the way his cheeks lit up a fiery red.

Francis tapped the yellow feather once as he hid it under his shirt again. He remembered a time before the Fall, when he and Arthur had been ready to swear their lives together, to die the moment the other had, to feel everything they felt, to have a perfect connection of mind and powers. They had only passed through the first part, the necklace of which bore the most powerful feather in an angel's wing, the one that could only be removed by the angel whose feather it was. Without it an angel would be grounded until it regrew unless it was replaced with another, in the case of the ritual. The two switched feathers, always wearing it and powering their wings through the others devotion. Even after the Fall, Francis had never once faltered in flight, and he knew Arthur hadn't either.

"Arthur... The past is the past and neither of us can change it, whether we'd want to or not. So let's start fresh, like humans do. You are a demon and I am an angel, if you think we have changed too much to be anything more than we are now then nothing will happen, but give us a chance." Francis begged, a hand over the feather and the other on Arthur's knee.

"Francis!..." He let out a sigh and leant back, wrapping his tail tighter around Francis as the wing shifted to comfortingly wrap around him protectively.

"We can't... not now and not ever." Arthur decided and Francis let his shoulders drop but said nothing to disagree or argue. Instead he allowed himself one thing and that was to rest his head on Arthur's, Arthur's tail holding him as his wing held Arthur.

That's how they stayed for hours, wrapped up in each other but looking, for all the world to see, like a young couple who had lost something important. The angel and demon relaxed in each other's grip and didn't speak when they left the park and separated. They had a more clear understanding of each other now.

Only a possible death and reincarnation as humans could bring them together. Yet the number of Angels who died had been 0 a year for the past Two Thousand years. Even as they said goodbye, they knew, in order to be together, Francis would have to betray his fellow angels, something he'd never be able to do.

The past was gone and so was any chance of being more to each other, now they were friends meant to be enemies. Bound by fate but no red string was strong enough to bind them, no net that wouldn't unravel halfway. Instead they were locked in an eternal dance, because neither had the ability to join the other, they were denied a pleasure the humans took for granted. The ability to love and be able to stand up for it.


	4. Death Comes in Pairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is hella short and contains a death and angst, feel free to skip ahead if you don't want to read.

The sweet smell of dirt and honey surrounded him, perfectly soft blonde hair brushed against his nose as the wind blew around them. Standing in front of him was Francis, the love of his life and the only man to ever think of him as more than a pawn. They were inches away, so close Arthur could feel his breath on his nose as their eyes stared at each other. Francis was familiar in a way that he'd never known existed.

He stepped away at the sound of a gunshot and stared at his ex-lover blankly. The bullet wound in Francis's stomach a gaping and painful red already. But Francis said nothing as Arthur lowered the gun to his side. Instead his eyes contained a soft understanding in them as he fell forward onto his knees.

He didn't ask why, he didn't cry out in pain or betrayal. He didn't look Arthur in the eye and give him a final 'I love you'. No, instead his lips spread in a smile and not just any smile, one that made Arthur's heart shatter into a thousand pieces.

Francis's eyes had shut as he grinned. A look Arthur had come to realize was the look Francis only gave when he was happiest, eyes closed in contentment and a grin so wide and beautiful that it normally made Arthur smile right back. It was the look that had meant Francis had loved and trusted him where he trusted so few. That was the look on Francis's face as he sat on his knees, bleeding out from Arthur's gun.

That was the last thing to cross the face of Francis as he finally fell face forward at Arthur's feet into the mud.

Francis Bonnefoy, Mascot and fiercest fighter of the Rebellion, was dead at his hand, Arthur Kirkland, silent assassin of the Monarchy. Yet the silent assassin let out a cry. The man who had not spoken since his parents were murdered cried out in pain and sorrow.

His head bent as he wept, the gun dropping from his lax grip. Loud sobs came from him as his body shook with grief. He fell to his knees as he let out a scream, not caring that he was in enemy territory. He screamed out his grief until his throat was too raw to do anything more than whimper pathetically.

He never once let his body touch Francis's. He'd already destroyed the only thing good in his future and he felt no need to desecrate it more. At least... not yet.

He could practically feel the crosshairs lining up, and when the bullet ripped through his throat he didn't even flinch. Instead he took the last remaining seconds he had and twined his fingers into Francis's. His head fell to rest on Francis's back and he regretted that his last sight wasn't Francis's face, but only his hair, already stained red at the tips. All he could think was that Francis was going to be furious, he loved his hair. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of a second part, any ideas?


	5. Warlock and Master Au

"Don't talk to me."

"...." Francis kicked him instead, staring straight ahead stubbornly when Arthur yelped and turned to glare at him.

"If you didn't insist on fucking everything up we wouldn't be in this mess." Arthur started to rant. "Y'know? Half the shit that happens is because of you, you have some serious issues. Why do I keep you around?" He asked the sky angrily and Francis just shrugged and sighed. There was no way he could respond after Arthur told him not to, so why did he keep asking him questions?

"If it had just been me I wouldn't have gotten caught because _I_ know what I'm doing, can you say the same?" He growled out and Francis twisted to glare at him, ignoring the way the ropes chafed at his arms and chest.

"Oh _really_? Because I remember a very dimwitted dumbass screeching in the pub, drunk off his ass, about witchcraft. Now whose fault was that? Because unlike _some_ people I can hold my liquor. And I don't insist on doing the stupidest thing I can think of because my lover's annoyed. Which I _should_ because, unlike in your case, my lover is _always_ annoyed and angry." He hissed and snapped his fanged teeth at him, Arthur not even flinching as he glowered back at him.

"................ Didn't I tell you not to talk to me?"

"I'm going to kill you, I'm going to rip your lungs out and watch you suffocate then I'm going to revive you so you can watch me feast on your soul before you go to hell!" Francis said venomously and Arthur laughed at that, like pure, head thrown back, shaking, laughter. He laughed for a good while as Francis sighed and relaxed against the bonds.

Finally he stopped and smiled widely as his head came to rest on Francis's shoulder.

"So I'm forgiven then?" He asked, still breathless from laughter.

"Of course you are." Francis told him as he twisted and kissed his head with a smile.

"So are you going to get us out of this or not?" He asked glancing behind them at the giant stake they were tied to.

"I was thinking I'd let you do that, since you know what you're doing." He smirked evilly which only prompted Arthur to growl and stick his tongue out, only to pull it back in when Francis's own forked tongue made an appearance. The Frenchman laughed and hid his tongue again.

"I summoned you for a reason remember?" Arthur said grumpily into his ear.

"I only came because I owed your brother or else you and would have never met." Francis said right back stiffly. Arthur bit down on his bare shoulder in revenge.

"And why do you stay?" he asked curiously and Francis sighed, loudly.

"Because you're a shitty witch that would die without me." Francis said with a dramatic roll of his eyes as he glanced over at him.

"Is that it?" Arthur pushed for answers, it wasn't like they where going anywhere anytime soon.

"You're entertaining?" Francis tried with a confused look as he finally managed to jump out and away from the stake.

"40 years with humans and you don't get a thing do you? Now get me _down now_." He snarled, wiggling against the stake.

Francis's sharp sword-like tail swished in the air behind him as he put a hand to his chin as if thinking.

"Perhaps you should stay, teach you a lesson about pissing off demons and falling in love with them." Francis stated as if conflicted, but his sharp blue eyes said the complete opposite. they were filled with laughter and amusement as he watched his 'Master' struggle against the pyre.

"I'd say order me, but we both know that only works when we're alone." He grinned widely in a inhumane and unnerving way, a normal human's lips couldn't stretch that far.

"When I die, I hope you cry because we'll be stuck together for eternity and I'm going to spend every second making your life miserable." Arthur declared kicking at Francis's head the best he could.

"Ah! Mon amour, you already do, it would only lead to more.... what is it you humans call it? Making love?" He snickered as Arthur flipped him off and groaned loudly.

"Can't you just get over it?" Arthur asked with an irritated look, he wasn't still pissed about earlier was he? He said he'd been forgiven so why was he still doing this... Oh... he wanted a real apology.

"Fine! I'm sorry, I'm sorry I ditched you and flirted with other people that wasn't for the sake of the job. I'm sorry I told you that demons don't have feelings, and _yes_ I'll make it up to you tonight and not report back in until the day after tomorrow so you can do whatever you want with me, happy?" Arthur snarled but took a breath to clear his head and looked at the demon in front of him. Francis was a thousand times more a human than Arthur half the time, it was irritating to say the least. But, he concluded as he was cut down and caught in the strong arms of his demon, it did have the benefit or keeping Arthur on track and also... well... It's not just demons that have feelings after all.

So when Francis kissed him later that night next to the fireplace, Arthur didn't hesitate for a second in kissing back. Francis was his demon and he was Francis's warlock. It was how they worked, as insane as it seemed. They weren't going to question something as rare as love in this world, just take it and be happy.

 


	6. The Past Should Never Be Forgotten

"Come home... Please..." He mumbled into the pillow in his arms. He missed his lover, his best friend, his stupid jerkface that got up too early every morning. But right now Francis was gone, stormed out after a fight that wasn't even his fault.

Arthur curled up on the couch, cat nudging at his feet, trying to get him to move, to do anything other than stare at the wall, the TV muted in the background. There had been three crashes in the four hours his lover had been gone, each car matching the description of the one Francis had taken off in. Arthur could barely breathe because of the idea of Francis dying in a hospital and the last thing Arthur had said to him would have been "I wish you'd just moved to France and stayed there! I don't need you!"

Arthur wouldn't get the call until after Francis was dead, that much he knew, because he wasn't on the list of emergency contacts for the hospital. Neither had ever bothered to change it after moving in together, as they hadn't even thought of the idea that the other wouldn't already be in the hospital with them.

They were young and stupid and most of all they were reckless, something Arthur despised himself for now. If only he'd caught onto the fact that Francis didn't want to talk, didn't want to do much more than read the old half-burned book he always revered. If only he remembered what day it was and kept his mouth shut for once, Francis would be next to him, not possibly dying.

Arthur slowly rose, petting the cats head mechanically as he crossed the room to pour the cat food into the cat's bowl. The cat jumped down from the couch and immediately started eating, his companion lazing in the sun from the window, not hungry enough to move from his spot.

Arthur glanced over at the calendar, noting that it wasn't just a bad day for Francis. Today was also the day his mother and father had died in a car crash, leaving him penniless and struggling through college.

Arthur swallowed and turned away from it, glancing at his computer but not in the mood to write. He still felt nervously sick, after all, everyone he loved had died in a car crash because of something he'd done, he couldn't even think about what he'd do if Francis went the same way.

He moved slowly, as if in a dream, to the bedroom they shared, slowly making the bed and grabbing the laundry. He set to work on folding the already finished laundry and starting the next load with a grimace. He put the clothes away and then started cleaning.

Cleaning was a nervous habit, something he'd never really been able to stop. So he started in the bathroom and made his way back to the living room, cleaning the walls from spills that never quite got cleaned, muddy paw prints from a certain fat cat, dusting the shelves and cleaning the kitchen well enough to make it sparkle.

Eventually he made it to the shrine. Francis's shrine for his first love. It had irritated Arthur at the beginning, like he was second best and Francis couldn't truly love him for as long as the shrine stood. But eventually he came to realize that it was Francis's version of a grave. The lover, who had perished in a fire, had no body to bury at the funeral so Francis had made his own grave to visit. A small box, usually used for cremated remains, held a locket and a few letters written by her before she died. In front of that occasionally held flowers, but at the moment it was two candles on either side, lit at night with the smell of cinnamon.

Recently Francis had only gave the shrine attention when the candles burned down or he'd become particularly stressed, like Arthur would at his brother's grave. So Arthur had never brought up his feelings of inadequacy. In fact, when Francis did something Arthur couldn't understand the meaning of or the reason behind it, Arthur would find himself at the shrine, silently asking her for help. He'd never gotten a straight answer but he always felt slightly more relaxed afterwards, occasionally seeing glances of a woman in the corner of his eye after such moments.

Maybe that's why he did it, or maybe to appease Francis should he return home unharmed. Arthur would never say either way but he still left the living room for the backyard, stepping carefully through the garden and picking the flowers the way Francis had taught him. He carried the lilies inside and filled the vase with water before placing it behind the box carefully. He'd move it later to give it sunlight but it would work for now.

He jumped as the cat jumped to the floor to twine about his legs. Arthur knelt and stroked him thoughtfully. Eventually the cat moved on only to turn around and meow for Arthur's attention. After sighing and cursing himself for leaving out the cat toys, when one went into his foot, he followed the cat coming to stop at the door.

Arthur frowned as the cat sat down patiently, watching Arthur, tail slowly waving behind him.

Then the door opened and Arthur jumped again, but this time at someone. He dove forward and wrapped his arms around Francis, pulling him closer and muttering apologies in his ear. He felt Francis hug him right back, something hard and something soft digging into his back but he didn't care.

"Amour... are you alright?" Francis asked softly and Arthur shook his head, apologizing louder now until Francis silenced him with a gentle kiss.

"Hush now, we were both wrong..." He murmured and Arthur nodded, slowly pulling away to see what was in Francis's hands. A bouquet of poppies and daisies, wrapped carefully and in the other was a plastic bag, filled with food.

"Francis... what's all this for? I should be apologizing to you not the other way around." Arthur asked as he took the bag from him, turning to set it on the counter and he felt Francis tug him into another hug and he went willingly.

"It is the day they died no? I should have watched my temper especially around this time of year, I'm so sorry Arthur... I bought the flowers for their graves, let me get dinner started and we can visit your parents while it sets alright?" Francis asked in his ear and Arthur nodded immediately. Now he felt bad, Francis was doing everything to make it up to him and all he had done was pick a couple of flowers and put them in a vase and he was the one to start the fight.

Arthur let Francis pull away to start on the groceries only to feel him freeze beside him. When he looked over worriedly he saw Francis staring at the shrine and he shrunk back slightly, terrified he'd screwed something up. What was that saying? The path to hell was paved with good intentions, that was literally Arthur's life.

But not this time. Francis gently touched Arthur's arm and glanced at him.

"Did... Did you..." He stuttered out and Arthur nervously nodded as if expecting to be yelled at, instead he was swept into another embrace, held tightly to Francis's chest.

"Arthur... thank you..." He murmured and it took Arthur a moment to realize that this had been the first year Francis hadn't put out new flowers for the anniversary of her death. Like Francis's way of saying he'd moved on and forgotten about her.

But Arthur didn't want that. She had and always would be a prominent figure in Francis's life, something that had shaped him into the man Arthur loved. To forget her just to appease a new lover was wrong in Arthur's eyes and Francis seemed to have just realized that.

"Don't mention... really don't, I don't need people thinking I've gone soft now do I?" Arthur groused, trying to move away from the sappy mood lest he or Francis started crying. He gently twined their fingers together and brought the combined hands to his lips and kissed them softly.

"Now, diner and an important visit? I think I can get behind that." Arthur told Francis with a kiss and a tug into the kitchen. And maybe, just maybe, he caught a glance of a beautiful woman who seemed to finally relax before disappearing, a happy and loving smile on her face.


	7. Valentine's Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. I know it says Valentine's day which was forever ago, but I wrote this on Valentine's day for my other account on Wattpad and it's still pretty good. It features a multitude of ships and if you only want Fruk then just skip to the end.

"Angleterre?" Francis asked confused at the Englishman who promptly, blushed and turned away. He didn't get far before Francis had caught up with him.

"And what is the beautiful land of Britain doing in my humble capital?" He charmed and Arthur snorted and rolled his eyes.

"I am neither beautiful nor is your capital humble and anyways its none of your business." He huffed and crossed his arms.

"Oh? Since you made the trip down here I'd say it is my business." Francis smiled and moved closer, trying to look in the bags only to get swatted away angrily by Arthur.

"If you _must_ know, there are flowers for a valentine gift that I can only seem to find here, so I'm here now leave me be." He growled, kicking at him and turning away.

"I don't think I could get you to tell me who its for could I?" Francis smiled and Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Only if you wanted to be murdered after I told you."

"So harsh angleterre, one might think you don't love me!"

"And they'd be right." Arthur said and rolled his eyes at Francis's fake hurt expression but before anyone could respond Alfred ran up tackling Francis.

"France, France, Francey-pants!"

"Mon cher mon cher, you can't just go yelling at me and not explain what you want Alfred." He laughed softly and Alfred whined and pulled on his arm.

"Sorry Arthur I need your boyfriend." And then he was pulling his arms and dragging him through the street, ignoring Arthur's yell of "HE'S NOT MY BOYFRIEND."

"Lies." Francis called back and snickered at the raging Englishman as he followed Alfred.

Alfred finally pulled him into a cafe and tugged on his arm.

"Dude I need your help."

"Ah, mon cher, I'm sorry to inform you but I think of you as a son not as-"

"You've got problems old man, like a lot." Alfred deadpanned not looking the least bit awkward about telling his elder country how he felt.

"Mon cher!" he held a hand over his heart and gasped as if appalled before he chuckled and dropped the act.

"Oui I am aware, so what did you need me for anyways? I was attempting seduce the hardened heart of my love."

"He's never going to say yes Francis I-.... stop getting me off topic! I need the Master of Love's help. Please?" Alfred begged, hands together as he bent his knees to give a more pleading appearance. Francis made a show of stroking his stubble.

"Well... your ego stroking has gotten better... and I _do_ like the name Master of Love...." Now he was just teasing him, after all it wouldn't be fun to have Alfred around and not torture him at least a little.

"Yes, I'll help you." Francis chuckled and Alfred looked ready to burst with excitement as he grabbed Francis and squeezed him, knocking the air out of him.

"Ah! Mon chou please." He rubbed his chest as Alfred released him, the American looking too excited at Francis's agreement to be apologetic for crushing him.

"Now tell big brother what he can help with, oui?" Francis asked and guided him to a seat.

"Well... I uh... Well..." Alfred started and blushed softly, looking down. If Francis hadn't already had an idea of what Alfred wanted to talk about then he would have been quite worried about the loud-mouthed nation's sudden inability to speak.

"Is it Kiku perhaps?" Francis offered with a half smile.

"What?! How'd you know?"

"Mon Fils, you have not exactly been discreet in your attempt to court him... Though I'm sure he appreciates you coming to me for once, at least for this." Francis said honestly and Alfred paused in confusion.

"...Why?" He asked slowly as if regretting his decision.

"Because Japan has two days of love, one for women to give gifts and one for men. I'm sure he doesn't consider you the female in the relationship... what there is of one at least, and probably would enjoy the fact that you made an effort to understand his culture." Francis explained and Alfred just stared at him, wide eyed.

"Why do you know this?" He asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed.

"Calm yourself Alfred, if I was interested in Japan would I be helping you right now? Non I would have no reason to and would have told you to find a way to woo him in your own way so that we played on an even field. Also, I have my eye set determinedly on a mutual friend of ours." Francis chuckled in amusement at Alfred's reaction to the last bit of information. The American's face was twisted in both disgust and amusement.

"He's never going to go out with you Francis."

"Ah! And that right there is why _I_ am the Master of Love and you are not. Perhaps Arthur says he will not but when has that man ever spoke what his heart truly feels? If Arthur can tell me honestly without a hint of hesitation or his signs of lying then I will leave him be, until them I wish to court him as much as you wish to court Kiku."

Alfred shifted at that and shrugged. "Whatever, It's your funeral man... possibly literally, Arthur's on a rampage ever since Gilbert tried to sneak a peek at the bags for Arthur's supposed Valentine."

"Hmm? Strange he was actually nicer to me today than normal... but that also got me off his back about the Valentine... he knows me too well..." Francis sighed and tapped his chin with his fingers until Alfred snapped his fingers under his nose making the Frenchman jump.

"Yeah you can daydream about sex with Arthur later, I still need your help."

"Obviously, you're still just as crude as Arthur."Francis sighed but settled into his chair, ordering food for both of them and sitting through lovestruck rant after lovestruck rant from Alfred about screwing everything up.

It was around Four in the afternoon when Francis finally got Alfred out of the cafe. He sighed in amusement at Alfred's shocked and excited face as he saw the time and bounced on his heels.

"Dude! Thanks for helping man, Keeks is going to love this. Oh, and Mattie and I sent our gifts together this year so it'll be here by tomorrow! Au Revoir Papa!" He said with a side hug before he was jogging down the street, leaving a chuckling Francis behind.

"Au Revoir mon Fils." He laughed and turned away, walking down the street and smiling as he heard the laughter around him. It wasn't quite Valentine's day but people were still in the mood and it was heartening to hear his people happy after such a hard year, it was good to see them relax and stop glancing over their backs and he couldn't help the slight prance to his step as he walked.

He only stopped walking when he felt his phone buzz. Not bothering to check his caller ID he answered it.

"Bonjour Antonio."

"Hola Francis I.... How'd you know it was me?"

"Because this is the time Lovino takes a nap and you always call me panicking about how to make him happy."

"Oh... well then... Well if I could just get him to smile then I wouldn't have to." Antonio argued meekly.

"Perhaps if you realized he smiles only when no-one's looking you wouldn't have to."

"....... Why do you know that?" Antonio nearly growled and Francis nearly smacked himself with annoyance.

"Because I stalk him obviously..." He grumbled sarcastically and took a breath.

"Mon ami, we both are aware I have no want or need to be with your lovely Italian, however his brother Feliciano is always happy to talk to me about him whenever the day of love comes up." He explained gently trying not to let his annoyance show. He never minded helping get a couple together or even to help a struggling relationship get a foothold, but the constant suspicion that he was out to have sex with everyone and the idea that that is why he knew so much about traditions in other countries got annoying really fast. Then again... he could forgive Antonio, Francis _had_ once expressed a desire to have an Italian lover without making it clear he wasn't speaking about the Vargas brothers.

Antonio wasn't the only one that called, so Francis ended up back at his apartment after he helped Antonio plan the day with Lovino, on his laptop on the phone with Sadiq of all people. He was going through Greek Valentine traditions on one page while texting Heracles about Turkish traditions on his tablet and speaking to Sadiq on his phone, trying to get the two stubborn fools to listen to him and stop denying the real reason they contacted him was _not_ dinner ideas but an attempt to get relationship help. More specifically, help to make a relationship.

By the time he finished with them he was texting Feliciano on his tablet while Gilbert chattered in his ear. Luckily the many years of the Prussian being his best friend meant he could help Feliciano without the need of the internet, so he started on homemade sweets, Gilbert on speaker phone trying to subtly hint at his attraction to Matthew, Feliciano texting a mile a minute about whether or not Ludwig would be willing to actually spend the day with him.

_Mon Cher, Ludwig has spent the last Valentines with you oui?_

_Well.... yes..._

_Then do not worry, he will spend this one with you as well._

_Are you sure big brother?_

_Oui oui, Feliciano I am sure, just remember to go easy on him. He does not like showing public affection, perhaps your idea of a dinner in his yard with the dogs is best._

_You think so? I don't want to push anything on him or make him upset or worried._

_Well you know him best non?_

_Uh..._

_Yes Feliciano, yes you do. Even Gilbert says so, so go with what makes him happy._

Francis sighed and smiled at Feliciano's chipper good bye and finally zoned back in to Gilbert.

"So, like Mattie's great and he has a nice ass and he's super sweet and I think I want to kiss him." Gilbert admitted and Francis dropped his spoon on the floor.

"Uh... Quoi?" He asked startled and Gilbert's voice went silent for a second.

"Uh... Don't... Don't murder me but... I really want to kiss Matthew." Gilbert mumbled into the phone and it took Francis a full minute to comprehend that and another two to get his temper under control. He'd always thought the over protective and angry fathers were an exaggeration of American culture but now that he felt it he realized that wasn't a quarter of what it was in reality.

"I..." He paused to collect his thoughts, "Why did I not hear of this before?"

"Uh... Well... The thing is... that I really have had a crush on Matthew for a while but... You scare me and so does he sometimes even though he's really a sweetheart, but Alfred also terrifies me and he's like _super_ un-awesomely protective of Matthew so I didn't want to say anything. But then Mattie kept sending me cute pictures of Kumajiro and he was in some of them and my heart was beating fast and I was smiling and I wanted to cuddle him and then I realized that little warm feeling that you hear about hadn't been around for a while and that I still wanted to stay with him and make him smile even though it wasn't book worthy and so I had to tell you, because you're his father and he loves you, you're my best friend and I love you, and I'm an idiot who's in love and has no idea what to do!" Gilbert squeaked into the phone and Francis was only able to make sense of the quick babble because he'd translated it many times before.

"Well... atleast its not just infatuation... or Ivan." He murmured and sighed, leaning his head against the counter with a groan.

"Francis? Buddy you alive?"

"Unfortunately." He drawled and sighed as he picked up the spoon and cleaned up the mess, glad his pudding hadn't been ruined.

"Alright, here's what you can do." He said and told Gilbert everything he knew about how to make Matthew's Valentine's day perfect. It wasn't that hard, his little Mathieu was quite happy to tell him what he loved and didn't, what he always wanted and what things he thought were too cliche to be cute. Father and son had discussed the ideas multiple times whenever Francis was lonely and came to visit, it was their bonding time where Alfred and Arthur probably had arguments over strategies, the idea almost made him laugh.

"And Gilbert?" Francis added at the end voice too sickly sweet to be considered nice.

"J-ja?"

"Hurt mon petit garçon and I'll do worse than murder you." Francis said sweetly, even though the threat and poison in his words was easily noticed by Gilbert.

"Ja ja I get the hint Francis." Gilbert seemed to squeak and hung up the phone quickly.

Francis sighed and rubbed at his eyes as he leaned against the counter. He would say he was tired but this happened every year, minus Gilbert and Alfred, and he was well aware he was supposed to be used to it. at least this year the ones acting seemed to be more willing to act on his advice then in years past. He didn't look up again until he heard a soft mew and felt a soft brushing against his feet.

"Bonjour mon Ami." He murmured and bent, lifting the small kitten up to his chest when he straightened. He gently stroked her back and smiled.

"You would not think me shallow would you? You wouldn't think me a sex-fiend or otherwise would you?" He asked softly, letting the kitten scramble up his chest to nuzzle at his ear and perch on his shoulder. He patted the Scottish Fold's head and took a breath before glancing at the time.

"Oh! We're going to be late!" He blinked and bustled around the kitchen, hand over the kitten to keep her from slipping as he grabbed the sweets and some already made foods into a picnic basket and wrapped a scarf around his neck, chuckling when the kitten snuggled into it and the cloth held her there as she purred happily. He hurried out the door, barely remembering to lock it, and speedily made his way across the city to a small park. He stopped by the entrance and walked in much slower.

"Oh... He's not here..." He frowned and spread out a blanket on the grass. He would have preferred an indoor meeting but his date loved the outdoors so he'd have to settle.

Twenty minutes later when his date still hadn't shown Francis was about ten seconds from throwing in the towel and just returning home to try and figure out what he'd done wrong and pretend his heart wasn't more than just a little hurt.

"I'm here, I'm here." A grumpy voice called out and Francis turned to see Arthur grumbling and moving towards him, coat turned to the wind.

"Sorry love, Alistair has a unique ability to make me want to start a war just by walking in the room." Arthur grumbled and plopped next to him, scooting closer and trying to act like he hadn't.

"You look cold?" Francis chuckled, offering a separate blanket from the basket. The Englishman glared and wrapped the blanket around himself and this time didn't bother hiding the fact that he was scooting closer until he could easily rest his head on Francis's shoulder.

"Why aren't you cold?" He grumbled as he tugged the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

"My country." Francis chuckled at Arthur's whine of annoyance.

"Hey Francis?"

"Oui?"

"Why is there a cat in your scarf?" He asked, beyond bewildered as he made eye contact with the fluffy kitten.

"Oh!" Francis tugged the kitten out of his scarf and held her out, depositing her safely into Arthur's hands.

"Happy Valentine's day." He smiled and Arthur stared at him for a few seconds before pulling the kitten close to his chest to protect her from the cold.

"Thank you." Arthur mumbled and pulled out his own gift. Francis's eyes widened at the lilies in his hand and took them carefully. Most assumed he loved roses most of all, but in fact he adored lilies beyond any other flower, he even had a tattoo, one of only three, of his favorite on his left calf, often hidden by makeup if he decided to streak.

"Oh Angleterre..." He started and felt lips on his own. His eyes shot open wide but he didn't hesitate in kissing back.

"I... I know you don't believe in magic... but as long as you... y'know, they won't wilt." Arthur murmured, face a brilliant and beautiful red as he looked out at the small pond, still trying to act 'cool', kids these days. Francis laughed softly and Arthur almost looked offended when he felt the Frenchman's lips on his cheek then his words in his ear.

"Je vous aime jusqu'à ce que mon âme n'existe plus." And Arthur blushed again at that, hand twining with Francis's.

Tomorrow they'd fight again for everyone to see, and they'd do that until the Entente Cordiale when they'd disappear from public eye and would return the next day. Then they'd fight their way through the year, occasionally slipping together on random occasions. Perhaps they should tell everyone about it, so the unnecessary fighting could stop, but honestly? They enjoyed the fighting as much as the loving, and occasional love-making, and sometimes they hurt each other and sometimes they didn't. It worked for them and they didn't want to change a thing, they had nothing to truly argue about and they wanted the peace, but what kind of Englishman didn't purposefully annoy the French, and what Frenchman let the English exist without a comment on untidy hair or clothing? They were France and England, Francis Bonnefoy and Arthur Kirkland, broken and hurting, healing and trying. They didn't need to change a thing for each other and they would never forget that. After all some souls are so closely intertwined that neither survived without the other. And really, would they want to live apart?

 


	8. Cats

"No." It was simple, it was commanding, and it was definite.

Francis whined and held the kittens closer to his face.

"But Mon Cher~." He wiggled his eyebrows and pushed the kittens in front of his face so Arthur could see them more clearly as if that would help. The spotted one seemed to roll her eyes and gently pawed at Francis's nose, making him coo at her, the other, fluffier, seemed disappointed at the lack of attention and hopped from Francis, hand to Arthur's chest and latched on with her claws. Arthur glared at the ball of fur and tried to pull her off only for her to grip harder and make her way up to his shoulder and lick his ear before settling down.

"Francis, I said _no,_ " Arthur growled, glaring at the kitten on his shoulder who leaned over and bumped noses with him. Arthur felt his resolve crumble for a second before he huffed and glared again. Francis however, saw the small break in the wall and immediately pressed forward, kitten on his head and tugging on the long hair with her teeth.

"Oh _please_? I'll do anything amour, let's keep them," He begged, making the best puppy eyes he could.

"No Francis... Wait... _Anything_?" He smirked, an idea forming in his head. Francis paused and weighed the pros and cons before warily agreeing.

"Good, guess who gets to handle my brothers at the next EU meeting?" Arthur asked smugly and Francis groaned, pulling the cat from his head and eyeing the kitten.

"You'd better be worth it." She just meowed and swiped at a strand of hair.  
  


Later, when Arthur awoke to find both cats sleeping peacefully on Francis's face he decided it _had_ been worth it. Especially the next morning when Arthur showed him the picture and listened to the screams of horror at Francis's noting of the terrible bed head the snuggling kittens had given him.

"Keep crying, it fuels me." Arthur smiled and settled onto the couch with his tea, the spotted cat joining him on his lap as he pulled out the remote. Francis glared at him and sighed pathetically, desperately reaching out to Arthur from the floor.

"Mon Cher, why would you allow such a photo to be taken? My heart! It can't take it." He cried dramatically, 'dying' slowly on the floor only to scowl when the only reaction he got was Marianne's, the fluffy kitten, tail draped over his head as she swatted his hair around.

"We need kids again, _Mathieu_ wouldn't have let me die," Francis grumbled, sitting up and accidently taking Marianne with him.

"We don't need kids, _Matthew_ barely gets attention as it is, and Alfred... is Alfred."

"Don't speak about Mon fils like that!" Francis said, hand over his heart, the other removing the kitten from his hair.

"I will speak about Notre fils, however I want." Arthur grumbled and ignored the tongue Francis stuck out at him.

"Don't speak in my language either, mon chou." Francis twisted away and ducked under the rubber band shot at his head.

"Kiss my ass."

"I'd rather kiss something else." Francis smirked and turned his head toward him, trying to look seductive. That was until Marianne found a strand of hair and yanked on it with her teeth, making him yelp as Arthur chuckled. 

Arthur flipped through the channels, ignoring his boyfriend who was having an increasingly hard time untangeling the cat from his hair. He paused when he felt soft paws on his hand and glanced down at the cat who was staring at the tv. He followed her gaze to see the channel had stopped on the first episode of Classic Who and scratched behind her ears approvingly. He was right to suggest they needed companions.


	9. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you all may be wondering why like 6 chapters have been added on one day, well the thing is I am transferring them from my Wattpad and I figured I might as well do it all know then forget about it and just update with the new ones. So just enjoy the reading, I usually update on a two-week schedule unless it's really short then I'll throw up a new one a few days later. But between work and trying to move 2 weeks is the safest bet.

Francis walked in, Matthew on a hip and Alfred's hand in his own, looking for his husband.

"Papa?" A quiet voice asked in his ear and he tilted his head.

"Oui mon fils?" He asked and followed Matthew's pointed hand to the couch where Arthur lay, sprawled out and only half on the actual couch. Francis laughed softly and slowly lowered Matthew to the ground.

"Alright boys, think you guys can help an old man out and get the bed ready for your father?" He whispered, chuckling when they nodded and bounced enthusiastically before grabbing at each other and pulling the other towards the master bedroom.

"Oh mon amour, you work yourself too hard." Francis sighed and knelt carefully, scooping up his husband and carrying him to the back bedroom.

The boys had already pulled back the blankets and where fluffing the pillows. Or rather Matthew was fluffing pillows, Alfred was trying to sleep on said pillows. He only sat up when Francis cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow at him, Arthur mumbling randomly in his sleep.

"Sorry Papa." He blushed and scrambled to the other side, Matthew following once he was satisfied with the flat pillow. Francis didn't bother trying to actually fluff the pillow, Arthur preferred it flat.

Francis smiled softly at his boys as they whispered and rushed off to the other rooms. He laid Arthur on the bed, coughing when Arthur refused to let go of his neck and yanking him down with him. Francis raised an eyebrow and unhooked the hands that were twined behind his neck. He pushed Arthur's arms away and reached down to pull the blanket over his sleeping husband.

A tug on his pants made him look down to see Matthew and Alfred in their pajamas, both holding up their arms to be picked up. He knelt down instead and brushed their flyaway hair back.

"What are you doing boys?"

"Daddy said we have to sleep in our PJ's, not our... stuff clothes." Alfred said as if that explained everything.

"Are you tired then?" Francis asked confusedly, they had just come from the park but Alfred usually had a few more hours left before he crashed on whatever hard surface was nearby.

"No Papa, but the TV said that people are happier when they sleep with the ones they love." Alfred smiled and his arms waved vigorously above his head. Francis cooed as he lifted him up and set him carefully next to Arthur.

"You too Matthew?" He smiled when his shyer son clutched his bear and nodded, quietly moving closer for Francis to pick him up as well and put him next to his brother who had already snuggled into Arthur's pillow, hand on Matthew's.

"D'you think..." Matthew paused and waited for Francis to change into an over-sized t-shirt and climb in next to them.

"Oui mon petit?" He asked, leaning on an elbow to watch him.

"Do you think Daddy will be happy when he wakes up? He said he wanted me and Alfie to sleep in our own rooms." Matthew murmured softly, looking at the bear in his arms. Francis chuckled softly and leaned over to kiss his head and smiled at him as he ran a hand through the soft curls on his son's head.

"Non, non mon petit, I do not think he will be angry with you or your brother. You can nap with us and the like, but at night is what he means."

"Even when we have nightmares?" Matthew said shyly, looking scared at the prospect.

"No Matthew." A new voice piped up and they both looked up to see an amused and tired looking Arthur watching them. Both of them flushed red only turning darker when Alfred grinned and wiggled happily.

"It wasn't me this time~" Alfred crowed triumphantly until Arthur's hand covered his face and he gently laid over him.

"No you've made me fall asleep again," Arthur chuckled as Alfred whined under him, calling for Matthew to save him.

"Mon cher, are you not mon petite hero?" Francis asked amusedly, Matthew moving to gently tug at his brother's arm in attempt to help.

"Wait... I _am_ the hero." Alfred he said as if realizing it and used his feet and hands to push up on Arthur's chest, his father slowly rising up to collapse next to him again.

"So what's wrong Matthew?" Arthur asked, a little more awake as he looked over at his family.

"I... I... I just wanted to make sure you were okay with us laying with you since we'd probably fall asleep." Matthew explained softly and Arthur leaned over Alfred, who was strangely silent, to kiss Matthew's head.

"Yes, yes its fine, as long as you sleep in your own beds at night. But... should you have a nightmare you can come back in here, as long as its _really_ a nightmare and not just someone who's hungry." He added with a look at Alfred who only grinned and held out his arms for a hug.

Sighing Arthur hugged him and moved to blow a raspberry on his neck making him scream and giggle, running to hide behind Francis's arm and sticking out his tongue.

"Bad Daddy, it's time for a nap so stop playing around and go to sleep," Alfred declared snuggling down into Francis's chest as his father's laughed. Matthew just looked confused at having his spot taken by his brother and eventually made his way to curl up against Arthur, tiny arms wrapped around Arthur's much bigger one.

"Night night Papa, Daddy." He yawned and closed his eyes, a chorus of 'night Matthew' rose up as Francis shifted himself closer with Alfred and kissed his husband once before settling down.

"I love you, I love all of you." Francis said with a smile, Alfred's happily waving of his arms almost catching him in the face.

Eventually they all settled down with tired yawns and muttered phrases, before falling asleep.


	10. Halloween Isn't Just a Time for Horror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. This actually has very little to do with Halloween.

“Have you found a costume yet, Alfred?” Arthur called down the aisles of the store, a cheerful and loud confirmation coming from all the way in the back. The blonde child ran through the open walkway, tripping and barely holding onto the costume in his arms.

Arthur shot forward and caught him as he started to fall again, happy giggles bubbling from him. Alfred held up his costume, bouncing on his heels as he waited his father’s verdict.

“Oh Al, didn’t I tell you to bring me to it not the other way around?” Arthur sighed and shook his head before looking at the costume and raising an eyebrow.

“Robin?.... Oh! Did you want me to be Batman?” Arthur asked, starting to look for the companion costume only to pause as Alfred shook his head and held the costume to his chest.

“Nope! You gotta be someone else.” He declared, looking oddly determined.

“Hmm? Why’s that?” Arthur questioned, eyebrow raised. It only went higher when Alfred bit his lip and shook his head.

“It’s a secret Daddy.” The child mumbled as if ashamed he was keeping secrets from his father.

“Is it a bad secret?”

“..... Nope.” Alfred said, suddenly happy again. Arthur sighed in slight irritation and shrugged, it was only a costume and Alfred didn’t ever make it very long before blowing the whistle on his secrets anyways.

“Alright, fine, keep your secrets you little rascal.” He said with a hand moving to tickle Alfred’s sides and smiling at the laughter that came.

“What shall I wear then?” Arthur asked himself and yelped as he was nearly jerked off his feet by his son pulling him across the store to the adult section and pointing at an outfit. Straightening himself out he sent Alfred a disapproving glare, which was only grinned at and the pointing hand getting a little more forceful.

“Sherlock Holmes? Good choice, I thought you did- You’re planning something aren’t you, you little devil?” Arthur said, rounding on Alfred who held out his arms with a “Yep.”

With a sigh Arthur lifted him up and set him on his hip kissing his cheek dramatically, making Alfred squeal and squirm away.

“Ewwwwwwwww, not the eewwwww Daaaadddddyyyyyy stttttoooooooooooppppppppp.” Alfred whined loudly, hushed by Arthur as he grinned and did it again. Alfred’s tiny hands pushed his face away with a huff and then crossed as he tried to glare. The effect was lost by the pudgy red cheeks and the small tongue sticking out of his mouth. Reaching forward, Arthur pushed the tongue back in, laughing at the subsequent whine, and taking the costume of the rack.

“You’re a spoiled child, you know that?” Arthur asked, looking at the price tags of both costumes and wincing slightly.

“I… You can put mine back Dad, It’s okay.” Alfred mumbled, putting his small hand over the price tag of his costume and Arthur shook his head.

“I told you I would buy real costumes this year, and I will. Just don’t expect expensive presents from me at Christmas.” Arthur told him, walking them both to the registers. Alfred just hugged his neck and planted a wet kiss on his ear with a happy squeal, probably damaging Arthur’s hearing forever but Arthur was just happy to see his son smile.

“Besides! Uncle Alistair will buy me anything I want, so I want you to spend the money on you! Or a puppy, but mainly you.” Alfred declared happily, as if the world had settled into a path of perfection.

“Oh he will? I’m going to have to talk to him about that, I do not want that following you into teenage years.” Arthur sighed and shook his head at Alfred’s confused “What’s that mean?”

“Nothing love, nothing, let's just get you home before the goldfish start to worry that their master is missing.” Arthur told him and Alfred’s eyes went wide in horror that his fish might miss him.

“Dadddddddyyyyy, you gots to hurry before they panic, what if they go red like you do?”

“......... I’m not ever getting you a dog.”

“That’s okay, I’ll get Uncle Liam or Uncle Sam or Uncle Owen to get me one…. Or a bird like Aunt Nessie!” He crowed and was distracted by the cashier’s pin on her chest, staring at it and only barely blinking until they were on the way out. Then he spun and waved wildly. 

“Bye Miss!” He called and grinned when she said her own goodbye and held onto his father’s neck for the trek to the car.

 

**** **_Somewhere Else_ **

“Mon Fils? What are you doing?” Francis called after his son who was digging frantically through the adult section of costumes.

“Papa…. I gotta find it.” He called back, not noticing his father’s confused look as he stepped up behind him.

“Mon chou, I already got your costume at home, why are you still looking?”

“For you Papa.” Matthew said, head popping out from between a wool coat and a Superman costume.

“And I found it.” He smiled brightly, disappearing for a second before reappearing with a costume twice his size on his back. 

“Dr. Watson? Is there a reason why you chose that?” Francis asked, lifting the heavy material from his son’s back. Matthew rubbed his hands together in a sign of nervousness before nodding, unable to lie.

“Oh…. Oh alright, I won’t ask, I trust you know what you’re doing mon petit.” Francis sighed and hung the outfit over one arm and offered the other to Matthew, who happily wrapped his much smaller arms and hands around it and walked with him.

“Merci Papa.” He swung off his arm a little as they paid for their things and left the store.

**_Halloween Night_ **

Alfred’s incessant tugging was driving Arthur insane and he was feeling the urge to sit in a wagon and let Alfred cart him around. Trying to ignore that urge he hurried beside his son, following the excited child through the crowd of children and adults waiting for the sun to go down to start trick or treating.

“Alfred, Alfred! Where in the heavens are you going?” Arthur asked nearly tripping and calling back apologies, Alfred’s hand slipping from his as he dashed forward.

“To make you happy! Duh.” He giggled and kept running, actively running straight into a man’s leg and giggling as the man picked him up, poking his stomach.

“Watch where you’re going squirt.” Sadiq teased and held him until Arthur caught up, the englishman breathing heavily.

“Alfred! What have I told you about running off?” He admonished, taking him from the Turk’s arms and trying to glare at him.

“I… Not to, sorry Daddy, sorry Mr. Adnan.” Alfred apologized looking down but perking up at the sight near his father’s feet.

“Kitty… that means, Mr. Heracles?!” He called, wiggling and twisting as he looked for his favorite teacher. Arthur sighed and put him on the ground, only letting go of him completely when Alfred’s fingers looped into a belt loop. 

The Greek school counselor was walking up as Arthur and Sadiq started to speak about Alfred and the infamous ability to be unable to concentrate on his school work unless he was moving around. Alfred gasped and waved him down, hurriedly whispering in his ear and petting the halo on the Greeks head. Heracles nodded and whispered back, smiling a lopsided smile as straightened and purposely stuck his hand up the back of Sadiq’s shirt, smiling wider at the screech that his cold hands created. 

Heracles dodged the angry swipe and bent and lifted the cat that was curling around his legs and handed him to Sadiq who glared and huffed. Heracles turned to Arthur, speaking slowly about the sudden interest Alfred had in Science and the way his grades were still maintained at B’s and higher.

Alfred waited somewhat patiently, stroking the cat in Sadiq’s arms and talking about the rules for the new game they would start in P.E. when school started again. He was getting antsy however, glancing at the heads of people and moving forward a little, looking for something before he returned and grumpily sat on his father’s foot, trying to silently get the message through that he was bored.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to be an angel for halloween, especially with all those books of Greek Mythology you teach your students.” Arthur commented as the conversation drew to a close, Heracles shrugged.

“True, I was going to continue my tradition of being whatever hero my class was studying but Gupta wanted someone to go as an angel so he could go as a Demon for the haunted house.” He said smoothly, dramatically rolling his eyes as Sadiq grumbled.

“Course you’d do anything for him.” He huffed, stroking the cat and making Alfred giggle as he realized what his teacher was. Heracles on the other hand only rolled his eyes.

“You could have asked me first, but I’m not sure you are even aware I exist unless someone else is paying attention to me…. You’re not even paying attention now, I’m taking back my cat.” Heracles huffed and turned away, following Alfred’s eye to the string of Smurf’s on Sadiq’s belt. Heracles leaned over and slipped one off, tossing it to Alfred who caught it, eyes shining and opened his mouth to thank him, only to giggle and nod as Heracles motioned him to not say anything.

Arthur rolled his eyes, amused but figuring it wasn’t his place to say anything to the two. He opened his mouth to say something only to be interrupted by his son’s whine and puppy dog face from beneath him.

“Daaaaaaaddddddyyyyyyyyy, I have a thing for youuuuuuuuuuuu, but I’m going to die if you keep talking.” Alfred proclaimed, suddenly slipping into German to repeat the same phrase. Arthur crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Are you done?” He asked and Alfred held up his hands until he’d repeated it in Spanish as well. 

“Now I am. That’s all I can say though….” Alfred frowned at his own lack of ability to speak more fluent Spanish or German. Then he was standing up and bouncing, hands clasped around Arthur’s.

“Daaaaad.” He called until Arthur said his goodbyes and looked back to him.

“Behave or I get all your candy.” Arthur warned and Alfred gasped, holding his halloween basket closer and closing his mouth with a snap, still tugging on his arm.

Arthur sighed and waved goodbye at the teachers before he was following Alfred through the crowd again. He didn’t even see it coming until he himself was inches away from slamming into someone as Alfred jumped forward with a loud “MATTIE!”

Glancing at the one who’d caught him, Arthur blinked at the blue eyes of Francis Bonnefoy. Arthur gently pushed away the hands on his arms and stepped back, not noticing the Frenchman’s costume as he turned to his son and saw Matthew, dressed as Batman.

“Oh! Is this why you wanted to be Robin, Alfred?” Arthur asked, offering his hand to Matthew who shyly took it before moving and hugging him. Alfred grinned, though his cheeks were tinged red.

“Yep! I’m loud and annoying so I can’t be Batman, but! Mattie’s really quiet and really scary if you eat his pudding, but also really nice and I’m his best friend so I’m Robin!..... And… well… the people who are Batman always get more attention than the kids that are Robin, and I thought that maybe people would see him…. Y’know, since he’s Batman.” Alfred admitted softly, and bounced on his heels. Matthew’s eyes brightened and he hugged Alfred tightly, refusing to let go even when Alfred whined about trying to be cool.

“Mon cher, not even a single word of affection for me? Or even a hug?” Francis asked, both boys giggling as he held open his arms and Arthur stepped away. 

“Never in a million years, frog.” He teased, a proud gleam in his eye as he watched Alfred tug at Matthew’s arm to show him the smurf. Francis just laughed and dropped his arm, flicking Arthur’s hat with the other one.

“We match.” He said simply and Arthur glanced him up and down.

“No we don’t, I’m Sherlock and you’re…. Oh…. that’s what you…. Alfred? Something I should know?” Arthur asked, pointing a finger at his and Francis’s companion outfits, only to see Alfred turn red, shrug and dash off towards Antonio, the Spanish teacher who was going to be watching him in the maze so Arthur and Francis could relax.

“Matthew?” Arthur asked, his voice barely stern.

“I…. uh…. Maple…. It was Mr. Heracles’s idea.” He told them before rushing off after Alfred and leaving the two adults alone.

Arthur sighed and glanced nervously at Francis, waiting for him to say something.

“Pretzel?” He spoke after a few minutes, making Arthur jump.

“What?”

“Wanna share a pretzel with me? Antonio will watch the boys, so you can relax.” Francis explained softly and pointed to the hot pretzel stand. Arthur licked his lips before nodding, hands stuffed in his pockets. They walked slow, occasionally commenting on something nearby, like the weather or the decorations to the school, before falling silent again.

The pretzels were followed by smoothies, all at the cost of Francis’s wallet, something that was digging at Arthur’s pride. He hated having to be reliant on anyone, but he didn’t make a quarter of what Francis did even without the Frenchman’s inheritance.

“Will you stop that?” Arthur growled when Francis offered to buy tickets for Arthur and Alfred for the labyrinth maze.

“Quoi? Stop what?” Francis asked, bewildered, but having a sneaking suspicion as to what he wanted.

“Stop trying to buy me and Alfred dammit! We don’t need hand outs and we certainly don’t need you trying to garner favor to make yourself look better.” He snarled and stepped away, shoving his hands further into his pockets, he only stopped because of the hand on his arm.

“Arthur! What are you going on about? I thought… We were getting along so well, what happened?” Francis asked, his voice like his son’s, soft almost unheard.

“What happened is you’re a bastard Francis Bonnefoy, so leave me and my son alone.”

“I have no idea why you hate me Arthur… As for Alfred… I adore him like I adore my own son, and I know Matthew loves him too. Why are you so against me?” Francis’s voice grew a little louder, but still not able to be heard by the people nearby as he pulled Arthur back around and tugged his hands out of his pockets to hold them.

“We dated for two years, I did everything I could to keep you happy, and you were, I could see it. Why did my proposal break all of that?” Francis asked, and Arthur tilted his head away, trying to ignore the heat pooling down his face to his neck. 

“I wasn’t asking for marriage, just for you to move in, stop all that nonsense of waking Alfred up to take him home and leaving Alfred at daycare when he could have just stayed with me. It wasn’t final, you could have just said no and let us continue on as we were.” He said quietly and Arthur pulled his hands away, eyes narrowed in a glare.

“Do you even listen to yourself talk? Or do you just spout whatever nonsense comes to mind?” Arthur hissed and stepped away, arms crossed over his chest as if to protect himself.

“Leave me alone Bonnefoy.” Arthur said then turned and walked off, not glancing back once as Francis called after him, disappearing into the crowd and leaving Francis unsure as to where he was. 

Francis groaned and buried his face in his hands, grumbling to himself in French, trying to figure out what went wrong. He jumped at the sound of a lighter clicking and spun to see Heracles leaning against the fence, opening and closing his lighter. Francis swallowed and ignored him to move to lean against the fence himself, just able to make out the sight of Alfred on Antonio’s shoulders at the cotton candy line. His fingers itched for a cigarette but he knew it was illegal on school grounds.

“Have you thought about it from his point of view?” Heracles called randomly, tossing the lighter and catching it as he glanced up at Francis.

“What are you talking about?” Francis sighed and looked at him, surprised at the seriousness in his eyes.

“Well, as someone who used to be in his position, I’m just wondering if you thought about he felt.” He responded, flicking the lighter on again before finally closing it and stuffing it in his pocket. Francis swallowed and shrugged.

“Oui, more or less, I thought he’d have been happy, since he was so happy when we were just together. He always talked about wanting a bigger house for Alfred, to let him have a dog or something else.” Francis confided, looking for any answers he could find. 

“Did you know, me and Sadiq? We aren’t actually dating like everyone thinks, not even sleeping together.” Heracles started slowly and smiled softly at the surprise that jumped across Francis’s face.

“Ah, desole, the way you two move around each other and talk, one couldn’t help but wonder….” Francis apologized only to be waved off.

“We used to, back in college. Thought we were soulmates or at best soul buddies, which I suppose we are… that’s off topic, Sadiq only ever made one mistake.” Heracles said, eyes scanning the crowd and not meeting Francis’s. It was a long minute, in which the lighter was pulled out again, just spun between his fingers.

“He never asked me to marry him.” Heracles spoke softly, gently, as if waiting for the meaning behind the story would suddenly appear to Francis.

“Mon ami… what are you trying to tell me?”

“In the six years we were together we lived through a lot, fights, anger, break ups, college, women, men, jealousy, all that crap you read in books. We moved in together, living the dream… well as best as you can on a teacher’s salary, but even though everything seemed fine, we owned the house together, couple of pets, worked together. He never once asked to make it official, never once gave me a reason to not walk out the door.” Heracles explained, and a small amount of understanding crept onto Francis’s face. When he seemed he needed another push Heracles turned to him.

“You asked Arthur to move in, that’s it. He feels like you don’t seem him as worth marrying. When you marry someone you’re tied to them, no matter what, legally and emotionally. He  _ wants _ to marry you, but he’s pissed that he let himself feel the way he does when he thinks you don’t feel the same.”

Francis’s eyes widened and he pushed off the fence, mouth dropping open in understanding and horror at his inability to catch a hint. Before he left he paused and turned to Heracles.

“Why tell me the entire story? Why not just tell me the last bit?”

“I like a little philosophy in my life…. And I wanted you to know what you’d cause if you got cold feet and chickened out to leave him to his fate and also I’m old, so I do what I want, now get out of here and go talk to the angry bastard.” He explained, a smile forming on his face as Francis stumbled and nodded, spinning around helplessly.

“Fun house.”

“Merci!” Francis called, pushing through the crowd as carefully as he could.

He grabbed Arthur by the arms the moment he found him and spun him around before pulling him into a hug and enjoying the shocked look on Arthur’s face.

“Francis, what the fu-” 

“Children mon amour, apparently Heracles is a closet romantic and wants Sadiq and its a really weird thought, but I think their wedding would be really nice if they had one and it would probably have a lot of good food because Sadiq refuses to eat nasty food and-”

“Francis, you have two seconds before I stab you and tell Matthew you were eaten by goblins and take him as my own son.”

“..... That’s cruel… Heracles said the problem was that you actually wanted to marry me and I acted like I didn’t really want to marry you.” Francis admitted, only loosening his arms a small bit. Arthur cursed and glowered over Francis’s shoulder.

“Bastard can’t keep a secret.” He hissed quietly, trying not to let the kids hear. 

“Oh? So you do want to get married?” Francis grinned and Arthur slugged him in the arm and folded his arms across his chest with a huff.

“You don’t just get to rush over here and proclaim that I want to get married and pretend nothing ever happened and that we didn’t scream and yell at each other and storm off the last day we were together.” Arthur growled and turned away.

“..... Yes I can, but if you don’t want to do it that way then let’s start over. Francis Bonnefoy, at your service, father of the most talented student in the entire school.” Francis grinned and stated with a flourish of his hand, much to Arthur’s nonexistent amusement.

“Uh, no. But… maybe… we could… leave where we left off and just go from there…. Starting with…. I’m sorry Francis….” Francis’s eyes lit up and he pulled Arthur into a soft and quick kiss.

“Desole, mon amour, I never meant to hurt you.”

“WE DID IT MATTIE! I TOLD YOU TRUE LOVE ALWAYS WINS!” Alfred’s voice shouted and the two sprang apart, looking for the small boy who was happily dragging Matthew behind him who didn’t look so upset at being tugged.

“Actually… that’s what Mr. Heracles said when Mr. Sadiq said it wouldn’t work.” Matthew reminded him softly.

“Well…. Yeah…. But I got their costumes to match so evil Ms. Vierna would stop flirting with them and leave them for each other.” Alfred said, luckily at a much lower volume, even so Arthur and Francis glanced around for said women, not wanting her to be offended…. Or to start screeching about bad children again.

Arthur sighed and tried to look sternly at Alfred, but the gentle massage on his neck from Francis’s hand was distracting him.

“Alfred… you’re never getting a dog.” He said instead and Alfred pouted before looking excited again.

“Koala? Demon? Brachiosaurus? UHhhhhhhhhhh Cockatoo?” He asked, random animal names shooting from his mouth and Arthur shrugged.

“Cockatoo, that is… why do you want a demon?”

“Uncle Alistair said that you and Uncle Sam were demons that he had as pets until he set you free and you became my daddy and uncle.” Alfred said easily and Arthur turned to Francis.

“Alistair is going to die and I want you as my alibi.”

“...... Oui, mon chou.” Francis sighed, other hand reaching out to take the offered cotton candy from Matthew.

“Daddy? Papa?” Alfred asked, addressing Francis without even thinking about it.

“Can I be Eros for Mr. Sadiq and Mr. Heracles too?”

Both parents sighed and looked at him.

“Only if you can get their permission first, then yes you may.” Francis decided finally, glad Matthew was too distracted by food to think about love at the moment. Alfred cheered dramatically and started naming off a bizarre list of things he would need. Arthur and Francis’s eyes met and they smiled at each other. They could make this work…. At least until the cockatoo started repeating Arthur’s favorite words.


End file.
